A Heart Exposed
by WritePassion
Summary: Sequel to the sequel Grace Like Rain, but can be read on its own. After the honeymoon, Michael, Fiona, and Sam take on an assignment for the CIA. It doesn't go as planned, and Michael is left to wait and find comfort in Fiona's writings.
1. Chapter 1

_Burn Notice: I don't own it, I just like to play with it._

**A Heart Exposed**

By WritePassion

_September 6, 2012 - Michael and I were married today, and we're now on our way to Paris. I'm sorry to say I had doubts that this day would ever come. Now that it has, I couldn't be happier. And the fact that Michael surprised me with a trip to Paris that has nothing at all to do with his work, well, I'm ecstatic. As I wrote in earlier passages, we cleared up a lot of things that plagued our relationship for years. Michael has promised that his work will not possess him as it once did, and if he falls into that trap again, he's asked me, and everyone else in his life, to intervene by whatever means are necessary. His dedication to the two of us and our new life is astounding. Tears spring to my eyes when I think of the words he spoke today, promising me that I would be his first and foremost love in his life. I don't know what that means for his future with the CIA. Time will tell._

_ He's sleeping on the flight, but not me. I'm too excited. I want to be awake when we approach the city and see the sparkling lights. I haven't seen the Eiffel Tower in years, especially at night, and I am so looking forward to it. I'm also eager to see the intimate little hotel suite that Michael booked for us, just a stone's throw away from shopping and museums, and there's the most delicious little coffee shop on the corner that has the best French pastries. This will be the best week of my life. I just know it!_

_ September 13, 2012 - We were supposed to stay longer, but something has come up at home. I suppose I really couldn't have expected Michael to completely divorce himself from the CIA. At least now I'm certain that he loves me, and we spent a good amount of time discussing whether he should answer the call or ignore it. In the end, I was the one who convinced him to take it; this is a test for me, and I just have to learn to share him with his government. We're heading back today, but I'll be glad for the time we had in Paris and cherish it forever. Perhaps Paris can wait for us to return again someday and treat us to perfect weather, perfect scenery, and the perfect little suite where we spent so much time._

Michael took enough time to drop his suitcase in the loft, give Fiona a lingering goodbye kiss that sent a tingle through both of them, and head out again. He arrived at the CIA offices and found Sam waiting, leaning against the Cadillac, giving him a cocked smile as he parked next to him.

"Hey, Mikey, regards comme Paris est bon pour vous." His smile stretched across his face.

"Huh?"

"I said, looks like Paris was good to you." Sam scowled. "Jeez, you went there and you didn't even know the language?"

"Guess my French is more than a little rusty, Sam." Michael shrugged. "Besides, we didn't do a lot of... interacting... with the people."

Sam laughed. "Yeah, well, as long as your Russian is good, we're all set."

"We're going to Russia?" Michael let out a breath and glanced up at the sky.

"No, just getting in with some Russian buddies. Come on, our new CIA contact is waiting for us." Sam let out a long breath as he peeled himself off the Cadillac and led the way to the building.

"Somehow I have a feeling that it's not someone I'm going to like."

"Remember Bailey? The bushier half of the two stooges I had a run in with in Columbia?"

Michael's eyes grew wide. The names Bailey and Menaro brought back the unpleasant memory of when his plan to use heroin dealer Carmelo to find a stolen drone went south and Sam's life was in danger. Their inaction almost cost his best friend his life, but Sam was able to talk himself out of it, and with a little help from a pair of bugged specs, the team scored another save. After the lack of concern and inaction from the two agents, Michael hoped he'd never see either of them again. "No!"

"Yeah. I was told it's only temporary. I hope it's true."

_Great. This could be a living nightmare! _Michael held his sense of dread close to himself and hoped that whatever the CIA wanted him to do wouldn't turn into a fiasco. With Sam by his side, no doubt the two of them could minimize the damage.

"Are there any other landmines you'd like to clue me in on?" The two walked up to the building and entered the heavily air conditioned interior. It felt good against the late summer blast of heat and humidity.

"None that I know of. I just got the call from Bailey only because he was looking for you and your phone was off."

"Yeah, I did that on purpose."

"Thanks, man. I know you wanted to have an uninterrupted honeymoon, but the guy kept hounding me, looking for you. I finally had to call your hotel and have them give you a message! And it's a good thing I know some French, pal, or you never would have gotten the message and you'd really be in the dog house now!"

"Sorry, Sam." The little inn where he and Fiona stayed lacked one thing: English speaking staff. "While we were in Paris, I relied on Fiona's command of the language to get us through."

Sam let out a deep sigh. "It's okay. I should be glad you took off a week and isolated yourself. You, and Fi, needed it." The two stopped at the reception desk.

"I'm Michael Westen, and this is Sam Axe. We're here to see Agent Bailey."

The woman looked up at Michael and gave him a smile. "He's expecting you both, Mr. Westen. Third floor, room 345."

"Thanks." He signed in, and Sam added his signature on the line below Michael's.

Since Sam wasn't affiliated with the CIA, she handed him a visitor's badge, which he clipped onto the pocket of his yellow and green frond printed hawaiian shirt. She shook her head at the sight of the bright colors, and Sam knew without a doubt Bailey would hate it. He didn't care. Irritating Bailey almost made the visit worthwhile.

Michael led the way to the office, and when the two entered, they found Bailey hunched over his desk, studying a folder. Menaro stood to his right, pointing at something on the page. Michael heard Sam exhale, and he looked over at him with an expression that warned his friend to behave. He didn't need to be on the outs again because of a personality clash.

"Westen," Bailey greeted him with a monotone. He blinked at the glaring vision that Sam's shirt and white pants gave him. "Axe. Have a seat, I'll be right with you."

Sam's eyes slid to meet Michael's before he located the chair a few feet away from the desk and sat. Michael took the other and pulled it closer before sitting. The duo behind the desk kept them waiting for several minutes in silence as they read the file.

Finally, Bailey spoke. "I think it's our best course of action."

"That's what I thought. I'll get right on it."

Bailey cleared his throat and closed the file, then gave it to Menaro, who walked away and entered another room. "Sorry, it's another case in the pipeline. For you two, we've got something else."

"Fine. What is it?" Michael glared at him. He really had no patience for posturing and power games, and he perceived Bailey and Manaro's little act before the meeting to be such a thing. He wasn't impressed when he first met them, and he was even less impressed now. He just wanted to get this over with, do the job, and go home to Fi.

"You know there's a real Russian presence in Miami, and that there are ties to the Russian mob within the city. This week, tomorrow, as a matter of fact, Sergei Chernovsky is bringing his family to Miami for a little R & R, and of course, to do business."

"So? That happens a lot. What's the big deal about this guy," Sam asked.

Bailey narrowed his eyes at Sam and slid a picture across the desk. "This is the guy. And his wife and daughter." He paused to let them study the photos. "The difference here is, Chernovsky is actually a CIA operative. He's worked in Russia for years, done a lot of good for us, all the while he conducts his own 'personal' business on the side." He sighed and sat back in his chair. "Someone found out about the connection, and they tried to kill him. Yeah, he's just a Russian mob scumbag, but he's our Russian mob scumbag, and we'd like to keep him alive for awhile yet. So your job will be to keep him safe while he and his family are here."

"Babysitting duty. That's all this is?" Michael tossed the photos onto the desk. "You interrupted my honeymoon for this?" He wanted to launch himself over the desk and squeeze the guy's neck with both hands like it was a giant stress ball, but that would hardly win him points in the CIA.

"I could have handled this alone, Bailey," Sam said with a chill in his voice. He suspected that because of the agent's animosity toward him, Michael took the brunt of Bailey's desire to pay him back. If true, this was a majorly low blow.

"No, you couldn't, Axe. I need both of you, oh yeah, and that girl of yours, Westen. Phoebe."

"My wife, Fiona," Michael responded through gritted teeth. He gripped the arm rests to keep himself from launching himself out of the chair.

"Yeah, her!" Bailey waved his hand casually in the air as he leaned forward again. "She can watch over the wife and daughter, take them shopping or something while they're here."

"And Sam and I will watch Chernovsky."

"One of you take one shift, one takes the other. Simple as that." He smiled slightly. "I know you two boys can handle it. I'm sorry, Westen, you know better than anybody that not all CIA ops are glamorous and involve shooting and blowing up things." He laughed. "Think of it as a little vacation from your usual activities."

"We start this tomorrow?"

"Yes." Bailey pulled a file from the side of his desk, opened it, and slipped out a couple sheets of paper. "This is his itinerary. The wife and daughter will probably be more flexible, so Fiona will have to talk to them and arrange everything. Make sure she stays in contact with you so you can coordinate the pair's coming and goings."

Michael tilted his head and stared at Bailey. _Seriously, is he trying to tell me how to do my job?_ He glossed over his offense with a smile. "Don't worry, Bailey. We'll take care of things."

"Great." Bailey nodded his head. He looked like one of those bobble head basset hounds that people stick in the back of their cars. "Well then, I better let you two go and prepare." His head stopped moving when he set his gaze on Sam. "And Axe, please dress appropriately."

Sam pursed his lips to keep himself from saying something he'd regret later. He straightened, clenched his hands into fists, and relaxed. "Not a problem, Bailey. I always look the part." Then he turned on his heel and strode out of the room with Michael beside him.

"Well, we survived that," Michael spoke softly as the two moved toward the elevator.

"Barely. The nerve of that guy! Who does he think he is, anyway? He started out as a tech geek, and now he thinks he can tell us how to do our jobs!"

Michael pressed the down button and looked at Sam. "Don't let him get to you. It'll make his day, and you know it." A slow smile spread across his face. "You got one up on him, though, with that shirt. Did you see his reaction?"

Sam mirrored the smile. "Yeah. Wouldn't it be something if he had to go undercover some day dressed like this? I think it would kill him!" He stepped into the elevator with Michael, and the picture of both Bailey and Manaro in attire similar to Sam's was too much. Their laughter echoed off the stainless steel walls inside on the journey to the first floor.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

_September 15, 2012 - Michael and I are watching a Russian national and his family while they are visiting the Miami area. I've never been a fan of body guarding duties. It rates about the same as stakeouts. Both activities are boring. But Yasmin and Corinna have been fun from the moment we met. I felt like we were sisters, Yasmin and I, and Corinna my niece. We're using that instant bond as a part of a cover to keep them safe. In a few minutes, we're heading out to begin our day. Sam had the night watch, which must be even worse, since it's body guarding and stakeout rolled into one, with no one to keep him company. I feel sorry for him. At least I get to go out and do something fun with the girls. Michael takes Sergei to meetings. Hopefully everything will go as smoothly as it did yesterday._

Michael and Fiona approached the hotel suite door and knocked. They heard footsteps on the other side, followed shortly by the lock snapping and the door opened. "Morning!" Sam greeted them with a tired smile.

"Anything eventful happen last night," Michael asked as he entered the small foyer of the richly furnished hotel room and took in the opulence.

"Nope, it was all quiet. Everybody had jet lag, I think. After dinner, we came up here, the entire family went to bed, and I had a boring night. Room service was pretty good." He paused and stretched. "I wouldn't recommend the couch for sleeping, though."

"Where are they right now?"

"I heard movement in Sergei and Yasmin's room, but I think Corinna is still out." Sam turned to Fiona. "You better be ready to do some walking. Last night at dinner, I think the two were talking about a going on a major shopping extravaganza today. Mike, according to the itinerary, Sergei has a meeting in Miami Beach first thing."

"Thanks, Sam. I guess we'll see you tonight? Fi and I will watch them through dinner, and you can take over after that." Michael heard a sound and turned toward it. Corinna stepped out of her room wearing a short skirt, a tank top, and walking shoes. She smiled at him, then turned her attention to Fiona.

"Are we ready to go," Corinna asked in her almost flawless English.

"In a little while," Fiona answered. "Your parents haven't come out yet."

"Well, I'm going to take off. Mike, call me when you're ready to switch." He paused and acknowledged Sergei, who emerged from the bedroom, with a nod. As he passed Michael, he added with a soft voice, "Or if something else happens and you need my help."

"I will, Sam."

When everyone was dressed and had breakfast served by room service, Sergei said, "We are ready to go, yes? I have meeting in half hour."

"Yes. I'll take you there. Fi, keep in touch."

Fiona nodded. "I will, Michael. Not to worry." She grinned. "We girls will have a terrific time!"

Shopping with the Russian women was enjoyable, but Fiona constantly kept on her guard. She had to fight slipping into shopping mode and letting things like shoes steal her attention. So she let mother and daughter have their fun, but gave them advice now and then regarding some of their selections. When they wanted to get a manicure and pedicure it was a lot easier to keep watch on them, although Fiona found it difficult to not give in to Yasmin's request that she join them. She needed to keep her hands and feet ready for anything, so with regret she refused.

At lunch, she joined them at the table as if the three were all friends enjoying the meal together. Still, she casually watched the tables around them and looked for anyone suspicious. Her phone rang, and she answered it. "Hello?"

"Fi, it's Michael."

"Hello." She drew out the syllable and smiled. "Calling to check up on me, darling?"

"Yeah, and to give you a warning. Someone tried to shoot Sergei when we left the meeting and I was taking him to the car. He's okay, he didn't get hit. We were able to get away without a tail." He paused. "We're at the hotel now, and laying low."

"Should we do the same?"

"Have you seen anything suspicious?"

"No. It's been positively perfect." She watched the two women watching her with concern on their faces, and she pasted on a smile to reassure them. "We should probably go back after lunch anyway. I'm sure the ladies would like to take a dip in the pool."

"Not a bad idea, Fi. I called Sam, and he said he would meet you there at the mall just to make sure nothing happens. And then the three of us will keep an eye on the Chernovskys twenty-four hours, constant surveillance until they leave."

"Alright. I see Sam right now. I'll talk to you later, Michael, when we return." She smiled wide. "I love you."

"Love you too, Fi."

"Hello, ladies," Sam said as he approached their table and caught sight of the bags scattered at the women's feet. "Looks like you bought out all the stores!"

"No, we left some for others," Yasmin answered with a grin. "Perhaps tomorrow we buy again!"

"We'll see how things go." He leaned over and spoke to Fiona. "You ready to take off? I found your car and there was a spot nearby, so it'll make getting them out of here easier."

"We were just waiting for the check."

"Okay. And we should probably split them up after we get to the cars."

Fiona gave him a long look. "This is serious."

"Very. I spied some guy looking nervous as I got close to you all, so we better move as quickly as we can." He moved his lips close to her ear and asked, "Do they know about Sergei?"

She turned and spoke into his ear. "No. I thought it best not to say anything until they got back to the hotel."

He nodded. "Good plan." He watched Fiona lay cash down with the bill. "Okay, let's go, ladies."

Sam grabbed some of the bags in one hand and kept his gun hand free. The women knew something was up by his serious expression and the way he looked around as he led them to the cars. Yasmin and Corinna stayed close together, chattering softly in Russian, not realizing that Sam understood every word. He glanced back and saw Fiona bringing up the rear, keeping close to them, her hand ready at her purse in case she needed her gun.

"Yasmin, Corinna, it's okay. We'll take good care of you," Sam reassured them and turned to face forward again. The group made it to the parking lot, and he became even more wary. The lot was full, but it also afforded plenty of cover for anyone who might decide to start shooting. He saw his car, and Fiona's, and breathed a little easier. "We'll put your stuff into my trunk. Now, Fi, fan out to my right, and ladies, get between us."

They were about twenty feet away when Sam hit the trunk release. The back of the Cadillac instantaneously erupted into a ball of flame and spewed shrapnel in a deathly sphere around it. The blast knocked them off their feet and dropped them hard onto their backs. The air rushed out of Sam's lungs. He heard screaming, the flames licking at his car and the two on either side, and car alarms within the perimeter shrieked and blared.

"Ohhhh." Sam carefully sat up and looked around. Yasmin and Corinna sat up and brushed themselves off as they looked around with fear in their eyes. "You two okay?" They didn't answer him, so he asked again in Russian.

"Da. We are... okay," Yasmin answered finally as she quickly checked herself. She had a small cut near her elbow that bled, and Sam pulled out a handkerchief and pressed it to the wound. She held it in place. "Thank you."

"You're welcome. Corinna?"

"I'm fine. Fiona is hurt!" She crawled over to Fiona, who lay unconscious on the hot asphalt.

"Fi!"

"Hey, what happened here?"

Sam looked up and met the eyes of a mall security guard. "What does it look like? Somebody tried to blow us up! Call 911!"

"Already did, we've got fire units, cops, everybody on the way. Don't touch her! Let the pros handle it!"

As Sam got up and knelt beside Fiona, he replied, "I was a SEAL buddy, and I have field medicine training, so don't be telling me what to do! You wanna be useful? Watch over these two women!" The phone in his pocket rang, and Sam was torn. He decided to let it go to voice mail, because he had a sneaking suspicion it was Mike, and he knew his friend would rather have him attend to Fi than answer the phone and waste precious time talking to him.

"Fi, come on. Talk to me." He felt a pulse at her throat and put a hand on her ribcage and felt her chest rise and fall, so he knew that she was still alive. He pulled aside the sunglasses, which were askew on her face, and checked her pupils. The right one was dilated. He shook his head. "Fi, wake up." He tapped her cheek trying to get a reaction from her, but there was nothing. His hand moved behind her head, careful not to move her neck, and he probed around until he felt a large lump forming and noted that her hair was damp. His hand came away red with her blood. "Awwww, Fi!" He touched her upper arm and noted that she was clammy. _Probably going into shock._ He had nothing with which he could cover her, and he was thankful for at least the heat radiating off the asphalt.

Sirens screamed in the distance and increased in volume. Help would soon be there. Fiona moaned softly, and her arm bumped against his knee. He clamped down on it gently. "Fi, don't move!"

She obeyed, to his relief. He looked up at the Russian women staring down at the scene with horror in their eyes. Red flashers came up the aisle and bystanders scattered to let the rescue squad back up to the scene.

"What have we got here," the first paramedic asked.

"Her name's Fiona," Sam answered. "There was a bomb in my car, it blew up, and threw us all to the ground. She hit her head, and she's got a concussion. The left pupil is reactive, but the right one is dilated. She sort of came to for a few seconds, but she's out again. Her pulse and respirations are good, but I think she's going into shock."

The paramedic's partner gently inserted himself between Sam and Fiona, and Sam got up on his feet to watch them work. Yasmin and Corinna stood next to him, pressing close and holding onto each other as if their lives depended upon it. He put a protective arm around them, and it was then that he noticed the blood on his own forearm. He must have gotten it from Fi.

"Sam!" Michael got out of his car and hurried over to them, his long strides telling of his agitation.

His head turned in the direction of the sound of his name. "Mike! Who's watching Sergei?"

"I got some backup. Don't worry about him."

"How'd you know..."

"You didn't answer your phone. I figured I'd try here first, and I followed the emergency vehicles." His eyes riveted on the pale figure on the ground. "Fi." Her name choked him. "What happened to her?" He made a move to kneel down beside her, but Sam held him back.

"No, Mike! Let them work! She's got a concussion and she's a little shocky, but they'll take good care of her. Our main concern right now is getting Yasmin and Corinna back to the hotel safely." He looked deeply into Michael's eyes, trying to get him to focus. "Come on, Mike. Think about it. That's what Fi would want us to do!"

He nodded absently. Then he tore his eyes away from Fiona and looked at Sam's arm that restrained him. "Sam, you're getting blood on me."

"That's just Fi's. It's probably dried by now."

"No, that's not Fi's." Michael pointed to the underside of Sam's forearm.

With an expression of shock, Sam held up his arm and studied it. A piece of shrapnel was stuck in it, and it bled enough to run in rivulets that dropped to the pavement. "Wow. Look at that."

"Sam?"

"Yeah, Mike?" He tore his eyes away from his injury, stared at Michael, and noticed that he looked a little fuzzy. Tilting his head didn't help matters.

"You better sit down."

"Why? I'm fine, it's just a little foreign object. Not like I've never had that happen before!"

"No, Michael is right. You should sit down," Yasmin said as she gazed at him with a worried look.

"You know, now that you mention it, I do feel kinda... woozy." With Michael's and the two women's assistance, they helped Sam sit on the back bumper of the squad. He chuckled nervously. "Kinda funny how that adrenaline wears off and all of a sudden you feel..." He keeled over, and they caught him and gently laid him on the pavement.

"Let's get her in the bus and then take care of him," the paramedic said to his partner. "We'll transport them both at the same time."

With Fiona bundled up and on a gurney in the ambulance, the paramedics wrapped up Sam's arm in gauze to stop the bleeding and strapped him to a stretcher, then lay him on the bench seat opposite Fiona.

Michael, Yasmin, and Corinna waited near the doors. He asked, "Where are you taking them?"

"Jackson."

"Okay, thanks." He watched the paramedic slam the doors and run to get into the driver's seat. With sirens blaring the vehicle cut through the path the bystanders gave it, and soon the ambulance was on the main road heading for the hospital.

"We go to hospital too," Yasmin asked.

"Are you hurt?"

"I don't think so." She looked at herself and Corinna. "Other than this." She displayed the cut that had stopped bleeding.

Michael gave them a quick once-over. "You look okay, but to be on the safe side, we'll get you checked out." The three quickly picked up the bags, which had been strewn about where they fell, and put them in Michael's trunk. Then he loaded them into the car and took them to the same hospital where Fiona and Sam were taken.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Sam walked out of the emergency suite on his own, his arm bandaged up and ten stitches graced his arm. He still felt a little funny, but he was prescribed a can of juice and rest, and sent on his way. That was fine by him. He was too worried about Fiona to care about himself. They wouldn't let him see her, although as the nurse ushered him past her cubicle, he used his greater height and size to stop her and peer in for a few seconds.

"Sir, you have to leave. They're taking good care of your friend. Trust me!" She led him by the elbow to the doors.

"By now, her husband's gonna be out there, and he'll wanna know how she is! What should I tell him?"

The nurse looked up at him, and he knew this wasn't an unusual request. "Just tell him we're doing our best for her, and a doctor will be out soon to talk to him." Despite her petite frame, she gave him a healthy push toward the door. Behind him, a new case came in, and she was distracted. He could have taken advantage of it and gone back to check on Fi himself, but he realized that it was probably best to just get out of everyone's way. Besides, he was feeling dizzy again, and he didn't want to collapse on the vinyl floor right there or just outside the swinging doors.

He emerged and Michael got up to meet him. The look of concern on his friend's face made Sam's stomach lurch, and for a second or two he analyzed his actions. Was there something he could have done to prevent this? Shouldn't he have seen a booby trap coming?

"Sam, they let you go?" Michael gently took him by the good arm and led him to a chair. "Come on, sit down before you pass out. I thought for sure they'd admit you."

"Nah, it's not that bad, Mike, really!" Sam dropped into the chair and let his head fall back, but a bout of nausea forced him to sit upright. "Oh, that was not good." He leaned forward, and Michael helped him with a hand on his back, gently guiding him to put his head down between his knees.

After a couple minutes, he asked, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah. I think so." As he straightened, Sam added, "I must have lost more blood than I thought." He covered his face with his hands until his stomach settled down.

Michael looked down at Sam's ruined shirt. "I'd say so."

"Well, at least it was just a cut."

"It was more than a cut! You had shrapnel embedded in your arm! It could have hit an artery!"

"But it didn't, and I'm fine!" He turned his head toward Michael. "Fi was still out when I saw her. They're working on her, and I heard one of the doctors say something about doing an MRI. That's just standard stuff."

"Yeah."

"I'm sorry, Mike."

Michael turned in his seat and saw the intent apology in Sam's expression. "It's not your fault. How would you have known that someone rigged your car to blow?"

"I should have seen this coming. I don't know how... I know I didn't have a tail when I got to the mall." He paused, his stomach rebelling again. "They must have been pretty fast, because I was away from the car for only like ten minutes, tops!"

"Fi could do it in three or four minutes."

"Yeah, but she's the queen of incendiaries." Sam closed his eyes and slowly shook his head. "Who is behind all this? If we could just find that out, we could go after them and that would get this monkey off the Chernovskys' backs." He eyed the two women watching across from them. "Are you both okay?"

"We're fine," Corinna answered, staring at Sam with a mixture of awe and concern. "I can't believe how you protect us. In our country, it is hard to find such loyalty."

"We're doing a job, and we take our jobs seriously," Michael said. "The agency wants you safe, and so we will do everything we can to make that happen."

"We don't have to worry about you taking bribe to kill us," Yasmin said with a small smile. "That makes us feel safe."

Both Michael and Sam gave her a reassuring smile. "You'll be even safer once we get you back to the hotel."

All eyes turned on Sam as he groaned and dropped his head in his hand.

"What is it? Sam, are you okay?"

"Yeah. I was just thinking. Elsa, when she finds out about the Caddy, she's gonna be really upset!"

"If she cares about the car more than you, you've got more serious problems," Michael said and put a hand on his back.

"Yeah, you're right." He sighed and pulled out his phone. "Did you call Bailey and tell him what happened?" He glanced at Michael and saw a look on his face that said, 'Are you kidding?' "Yeah, I wouldn't call him either. But we need to get backup to come pick up Yasmin and Corinna, so you and I can stay here."

"Sam, you should leave too. Go home, get some rest."

"I can't, brother. I have to stay here with you, until we know that Fi's okay."

The intensity in Sam's eyes blew Michael away. He understood the changes that Sam and Fiona's relationship underwent as they all worked together, so it shouldn't have come as a surprise that Sam was truly worried for her. Michael saw that Sam wasn't doing this just for his benefit. It touched his heart that he cared about Fi so much.

"Okay." Michael finally agreed, and Sam called in for a couple of agents to take the women back to the hotel. He was impressed when Sam fielded the call from Bailey. Michael knew when it came, because Sam got up and walked away down a corridor where he paced and gestured as he spoke. No doubt, whatever Bailey threw at him, Sam tossed back with equal vigor.

After a few minutes, Sam returned, lowered himself into the chair, and let out a big sigh as he rubbed his eyes.

"You okay?"

"Yeah. Bailey ripped me a new one, but when I started getting on him about our support team, and why they weren't looking for whoever wants Sergei and his family dead, he couldn't give me a satisfactory answer. He had to admit that, until we called for help, there was no support." The corner of his mouth tipped up. "Then the shoe was on the other foot, and I chewed him out. He promised they'd get a team working on it." He huffed. "A lot of good that does now, with Fi in there." He settled deeper into the chair. "Has anyone come out yet?"

"No. I'm about ready to start making a scene or something. Waiting is driving me insane."

"I understand, brother. Let me see if the old Sam Axe charm can get something out of that nurse." Sam rose from his seat and approached the reception desk. He spent a few moments chatting with the woman, and when he was certain he'd softened her up enough, he asked, "Do you think you could do me a favor? Check up on Fiona Westen? Her husband is sitting over there, and we haven't heard anything. He's... well, he's practically sick with worrying about her!"

The nurse craned her neck to look over the top of the desk at Michael. She pressed her lips together in thought, looked up at Sam, and let out a breath. "I'll see what I can do." She got on the phone. "Just wait with him, and I'll see if I can get a doctor out here to talk to him. I'm sorry," she said with a smile, "That's about the best I can do."

"No, that's fine. I knew you had a good heart when I saw you sitting there." He grinned at her. "Thanks."

A few minutes later, a woman in maroon scrubs pushed aside one of the swinging doors as she glanced at a clipboard. Then her eyes roved up and scanned the few people in the waiting area. "Mr. Westen?"

"That... that's me!" Michael raised his hand and stood. He and Sam met her in the hall. "How's Fi?"

She smiled. "I'm Dr. Patel. I assisted with Mrs. Westen's care when she arrived. She is currently upstairs getting an MRI, and we should know more after those tests."

"What's wrong with her," Michael asked, his eyes wide with fear.

"She hit her head pretty good on the pavement, and there's some bleeding and swelling of the brain. We don't know how serious it is yet."

"Has she regained consciousness at all," Sam asked.

"No, I'm afraid not." Dr. Patel shook her head, her short hair swaying with the movement. "But that is not unusual in cases like this. She could be unconscious for awhile. Like I said, until we get the results from the tests, we won't know what we're up against and what is our next course of action." She laid a hand on Michael's arm. "I assure you, Mr. Westen, she's in the best hands. This is a trauma care center. We deal with things like this all the time."

_Sure you do, but this is my wife you're dealing with!_ He was so lost in his emotional pain and worry that he didn't know when the doctor left and Sam turned him back to sit in one of the chairs. He was vaguely aware that his friend talked to the doctor and asked her some questions, but as to what they were, he had no idea. All he could think about was that Fiona was trapped in her injured brain, and that she might never recover. Now, when he'd finally realized how much she meant to him, and they'd taken the step to make their bond permanent, he might lose her. It wasn't fair.

As the hours slipped away, Sam worried about Michael. He tried to engage him in conversation, but he barely responded. A couple of times, Sam checked in with the agency for progress on finding the people who caused all this mayhem. Every call, he got the same answer: nothing new, don't worry, we're on it. He called the hotel and talked to Sergei. His family was being taken care of by a new team.

"I would feel better if the Westens and you were here," Sergei spoke in Russian, so he wouldn't offend the other team.

Sam responded in the man's native tongue. "I understand, Sergei, but Fiona is still being looked at. She might be unconscious for several days. The doctors just don't know yet."

Sergei let out a long breath. "I will tell Yas and Cori. They will be most disappointed."

"Thanks, Sergei. I'll give Michael your well wishes."

"Thank you, Sam. After this, I am cutting my trip short. We will be leaving soon."

"Be careful, Sergei. This line isn't secure."

"Da. We will talk again."

The line went dead, and Sam dialed a different number. During everything that happened, he didn't think about calling Elsa. A glance at his watch told him that it was nearly dinner time. He was supposed to eat early with her and then go to the hotel to watch the Chernovskys. She had no idea what had happened, and she didn't know about the current state of the Cadillac. But it was time to face the music, so he called her.

"Hi, pumkin, it's me."

"Sammy, where've you been? I thought you'd be here at the pool until we had dinner."

"Well, I got a call from Mike that Fi needed my help with the women. Look, I can't really get into details. Can you come here?"

"Where are you?"

"I'm at Jackson. Oh, and bring me some clean clothes?"

There was a silence on the other side. "Sam, are you okay? What happened?" The sound of her voice changed to a panicked tone.

"I'm fine, honey. Just, please, do this for me?"

"Certainly! I'll be right there!"

He hung up and returned to the waiting room. "Any news, Mike?"

"No. Did you get any word on the investigation?" Michael asked, but his attention was riveted on the double doors.

"Sorry, nothing new. I talked to Sergei, and he said they're leaving early to go home. I don't think he finished his business, but as far as he's concerned, he finished his business. If you know what I mean."

Michael nodded. "I don't blame him. He might want to look into skyping next time."

"Elsa's coming here. I talked to her, but I didn't give her all the details, in case the line is being monitored. She's bringing me some clean clothes, too." He paused and met Michael's eyes that stared briefly at his bloodied shirt and pants. "And no, I didn't tell her about the Caddy. That's something I'd prefer to do face to face, even if she slugs me or something."

The doors swung open, and Dr. Patel came through them with a small smile directed at Michael. "Mr. Westen, we received the test results on your wife. Fiona has a severe concussion, and there was some pressure built up. We did some surgery to alleviate it, and she'll have a shunt in for awhile, but it's for the best. She's been moved to ICU for awhile, but you are both free to go up and visit her."

"Is she awake?"

"No, Mr. Westen. We don't expect that she'll be awake for awhile. After you visit her, you should probably go home and try to rest."

He shook his head. There was no way he was leaving her side, if he could at all help it. "Let's go up, Sam."

"I'll call Elsa to let her know where we are." As he and Michael walked to the elevator, Sam called Elsa and gave her directions to the ICU. He slipped the phone into his pocket and said, "She's almost here, and she'll meet us upstairs."

When they arrived at Fiona's room, Michael went in but Sam stayed outside looking through the glass wall. He didn't want to go in looking like he did, on the off chance that Fiona might awaken and see the state of his clothes. She needed to be concerned about herself and her recovery now, not what happened to anyone else. Michael turned his head to see if he was coming, but he waved him inside.

"I'll wait out here for Elsa," Sam said.

He didn't have long to wait. She saw him before he saw her, but he heard the pained cry of his name from half way down the hall. He turned to face her, and she hurried to meet him with her brow creased and her face full of anxiety.

"Sammy, what happened to you? You should be in bed!"

"Maybe later, pumpkin," he said with a teasing tone to try to disarm her fears. "I'm fine." He quickly explained what happened. "Fi and I were body guarding a couple of women, and when I hit the remote to open the trunk, the Caddy blew up. Somebody rigged it while I was in the mall looking for them."

"The car blew up? Thank God you weren't in it at the time!" She hugged him to herself, not caring about the dried blood. Then she kissed him, her thankfulness communicated in the press of her lips on his.

When he broke the contact, he held her close and said, "Yeah, that's how I felt, too. But Fi took the brunt of it, and now she's in there fighting a brain injury."

Elsa slipped out of his grip and stared into the dimly lit room. She watched Michael as he sat unmoving next to Fiona's bedside, his hands enveloped her free hand, and his face appeared ready to crack with unshed tears. "Poor Michael!"

"I want to try to get him out of here after he's had some time with her. He needs to get his rest, you know?"

"And so do you!" Elsa turned back to him and pushed her index finger into his chest. She looked down, took the hand of his injured forearm, and held it up. "How badly were you hurt?"

Sam shrugged. "Not too bad. Just had a piece of the car embedded into my arm."

"Sam!" Her eyes grew wide.

"I think it was part of the back fender."

"I don't care what it was!" Her eyes teared up and she held onto his upper arms. "It could have been very, very bad!"

"So you're not upset about the car being totaled?"

"Heavens, no! Cars can be replaced." She looked deeply into his eyes. "But you... you're one of a kind, baby." She smiled wide before she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down to kiss her again. "Now, why don't you find somewhere to change, and I'll go in and keep Michael company until you think you can pry him out of there."

Sam held her and buried his face in the crook of her neck. "Thank you, Elsa," he whispered, his voice husky with emotion. He didn't quite know what to expect from her, and she'd bested his wildest imagination. He took the clothes from her, turned, and found a large restroom in which he had plenty of room to change. His ruined clothes he balled up, put them into a biohazard bag, and dumped them into a red bin situated on the floor near the nurses' station. Then he went back to the room and stood behind Michael and Elsa.

"Michael," Elsa spoke softly as she caressed his hand on top of Fiona's. "You should come home with us. Fiona will be here tomorrow."

"I don't wanna go home." He broke his stare at Fiona and turned to Elsa. "What if she wakes up? What if I'm not here when she wakes up?" He blinked, dangerously close to losing himself.

She put an arm around his shoulders. "The doctor said she'd be out for awhile."

"But I should stay and talk to her. Get her to wake up."

"You can do that tomorrow. Michael, you won't be any good to her if you're exhausted! Come on. Let me and Sam take you home."

"I want to go our home, not the hotel."

"Okay. Do you want us to stay with you?"

"That's a good idea, Elsa," Sam said, backing up her suggestion. "We should stay overnight with you, Mike."

"No, no, no. It's okay. I'll be fine." He looked at them both, his eyes clear and adamant. "I can be alone. It's not like I've never been alone before."

_Yeah, but things are different now, brother._ Instead of speaking his thoughts, Sam nodded. "Okay. We'll get you and bring you back here tomorrow. How about that?"

"If you want to."

Sam drove the Charger to the loft, and Elsa followed in her car. All the way home, Michael was quiet, his head bowed and eyes closed as if he were asleep. Getting the car into the courtyard involved urging the lineup of club customers out of the way, some of whom hurled unflattering insults Sam's way, but he didn't care. He parked the car and concerned himself with getting Michael upstairs and ignored their stares. As soon as he unlocked the door, Michael trudged inside and made his way to the bed, sat down, and mechanically removed his shoes.

"Thanks, Sam. I'll, uh, see you tomorrow."

"Sure, Mike. Just call if you need anything. Elsa and I will be right over."

Michael nodded and fell backwards onto the bed to stare up at the ceiling. Reluctantly, Sam left him alone and locked up the loft. He closed the gates and walked back to Elsa's Cadillac and got in.

"What should we do, Sam?"

"Hovering isn't going to help him. He really does need to be alone right now." He sighed and massaged his forehead. "Let's go home, sweetheart."

"Okay." She gave the dark loft windows one last glance and turned the car around to go back to the hotel. All the while, she hoped they were doing the right thing.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

In the middle of the night, Michael startled awake. He hadn't realized that he'd fallen asleep until the dream woke him. He listened for her breathing, but it was quiet. Not even the club music vibrated up through the floorboards. He shook from his mind the last of the vision of Fiona calling, no, screaming his name, and he crawled out from the center of the bed where he'd curled up into a fetal position. He was surprised that he still wore his clothes, then remembered that he hadn't taken them off to go to bed.

"I'm really out of it, Fi." He spoke softly, afraid someone would hear and think him crazy. "I wish you were here." He swallowed away the lump in his throat, got up, and went to use the bathroom. As he returned to the bed, he slowly stripped off one piece of clothing at a time, leaving a trail behind him until he wore nothing but his underwear. He took a hold of the bedcovers in his fist and pulled them roughly down to the foot of the bed. In the dim light coming from outside, he stared at Fi's empty side of the bed. If he looked really hard, he could see an indentation. Michael shook his head. He was delusional.

He didn't really see evidence of her occupying the bed, but he did spy a thin, rectangular object that had come out from under her pillow. He knelt on the bed and reached for it as he turned on the bed side light. His eyes focused on the red leather cover. There was no title on it, no indication what it was. A red satin ribbon marked a place in the book. His thumb fanned the pages until he reached the space the ribbon held for her.

_The trip to Paris was way too fast and furious, kind of like making love to Michael. And just as exhilarating. Now he's on a mission again and I'm supposed to help him tomorrow. I don't know a bit of Russian, but he told me that our charges speak English, so we should have no communication problems. _

_ I don't know how this will all work out. I keep worrying that he'll go back to his old ways and I'll be left out again, shut out by his drive to help others and serve his country. What about me? Where do I fit in? Is this now my country too, a gift given to me by marriage? I'm too confused yet. _

Michael sighed as he flipped back through the pages to the beginning. He quickly realized that the first entry was recorded after she came home from being in prison.

_I feel like my life has started over, and to symbolize it, I put away my old journal, the one I wrote in before I gave myself up to the FBI. It sits with all the others in the musty old footlocker I brought with me from Ireland. It's so fitting, because not only do I feel as if I have a new life, a new chapter has begun. Michael has gone through all his friends and family, asking forgiveness for everything he's done that hurt them. So much of it was the result of the burn notice. Now that he is free of that weight, he can finally live. I'm so happy for him, because he is now aware of what the burn notice had done to change his life, good and bad, and he's determined to prevent the bad from taking over his life again. We are to be married soon, which came as a complete shock to me. I said yes without thinking, because I didn't want to risk losing him if I said, "Let's wait just a bit." Part of me is afraid he'll change his mind, or things will get in the way again. But I have to trust in him, trust in the change, and pray for the best._

"Fi, did you ever have anything good to write about me?" He chuckled mirthlessly. He dropped the journal on the night stand and got up, crossed the room to the corner where she kept the footlocker that she referred to in the new book. It was unlocked, and inside he found several leather bound books containing her beautiful script. He pulled out one and opened it. Just seeing her precise handwriting and touching the indentations made him feel closer to her. He quickly discovered that each one was dated in the front, so he searched for the year they met. It would be interesting to see what she first thought of him, if she even bothered to write about it at all.

_I met this man, who goes by the name Michael McBride, in the pub last night. He's handsome, __not stunningly so, but there's something about him that called to me from the moment I laid eyes on him. He has an air of confidence about him without being arrogant. Inside, he has a good heart, but it's covered with the cares of the world. My own heart just went out to him and I wanted to make the hurts go away, to soothe his troubled soul and care for him. 'Tis crazy, to be sure. I've never felt this way about a man before, and certainly not one I just met! I sense he's dangerous, but I've never been one to shrink from danger before. Surely, I'll be seeing him again._

Michael smiled at the memory of when they met. If he closed his eyes, he could see the dimly lit pub in stunning detail. He just wanted some relief from the chill, and to medicate his downtrodden psyche for a little while using the local brew. He didn't know anyone in that place, but by the time he left, he walked out with a girl under his arm and in his heart. He'd never fallen for a woman so fast before. It was wrong. He was engaged to someone else back home. But he never felt the way he did with Fi, and it was only a matter of time before the engagement was off. He couldn't marry someone when he was in love with someone else.

He thumbed through the first year and his eyes fell on bits and pieces where she mentioned him. All the time they were apart, her love never faded. The full impact of her devotion finally sank in, and it bowled him over. Sitting on the floor reading the diary, he felt weak and collapsed to his side, the book clutched in his hands, as he curled his body around it and sobbed. "All that time, Fi, you loved me. And how did I repay you?" Too many times he walked away, off to another mission. It was habit, and he never considered how it would make her feel.

Sunlight filtered through the windows and woke Michael. He lay on the hard wood floor, curled up with Fi's diary. In his clutches, a corner of the thin cover bent. Horrified, he sat up abruptly, straightened it, and caressed the cover. His hand came away smelling like old leather and Fi's perfume. Before he could break down again, Michael put the volume back where he found it. His fingers ran over the spines of the other diaries. He nodded. Later, when he was alone again, he would peruse them one at a time until Fiona came home.

A fist pounded on the door, followed by the sound of a key in the lock. It opened a crack, and Michael slammed the trunk lid closed, jumped to his feet, and pasted on a smile for Sam's benefit.

"Hey, Mikey!" Sam entered the loft with two cups of coffee in a carrier and a bag dangling from his fingers. He looked his friend up and down, then noticed the line of clothes parading across the floor. Deflecting from where his mind was going, he said, "You're not dressed. I thought you'd be rarin' to go to see Fi, so I stopped and picked us up a little breakfast."

"Yeah. I, uh, just woke up." He crossed the room and headed for the closet. "I'll be ready to go in a little while. Just gotta get cleaned up."

"Here, have a little java," Sam said and handed him an insulated cup as Michael walked past. "There are a couple of breakfast sandwiches in the bag, but they'll keep until we're on the way to the hospital."

"Thanks. Where's Elsa?" He absently rifled through the closet and settled on jeans and a shirt. He didn't pay attention to the color. It was just something to cover himself.

"She had to take care of something at the hotel, but she said she'd be by later."

As soon as Michael was dressed, Sam drove him to the hospital. He stayed most of the day with him, ran to the cafeteria to get him something to eat or drink, and he fielded calls from the agency. With support from Maddie, Jessie, and Elsa, Michael was never alone. Except at night, when Sam insisted he go home to rest. Then he stayed up reading more of Fiona's diaries. It was the next best thing to her being there, yet it was a horribly inadequate substitute. He found her diary from 2007 and homed in on the entry detailing his arrival in Miami.

_December 7, 2007 - I'm on a plane heading to Miami. Michael, that despicable rat! He left my name in his wallet as an emergency contact, and this morning I got a call from the housekeeper at the Breaker Motel. She said Michael looked like he'd been beaten within an inch of his life and she couldn't wake him. She thought he might die. A part of me said, good riddance! Yet a soft spot in my __heart still yearns for a reunion, a chance to hear him say he loves me. I'm a fool to believe that I will ever hear those words come from Michael Westen's lips. But I'm a sucker, too. I can't resist him. I hate that about myself, but there's this magnetic pull that I just can't ignore. Besides, things are getting hot in New York City, and I needed to escape._

The entry ended, but after an empty line, she wrote more.

_I went to the motel as soon as my plane landed and I picked up my luggage. I couldn't believe how terrible Michael looked. His skin was mottled and discolored ugly shades of purple and green. I tried to wake him once, and he moaned a little, but he didn't respond again. He felt feverish, so I kicked up the air conditioner until it was like an ice box in the room. I sat in the chair beside his bed, waiting, grabbing onto my cold arms and rubbing the life back into them now and then. _

_ Finally, I tired of this. I'd wasted too much of my life waiting in vain for him. I wasn't about to let him do it to me again! So I kicked him. Hard. I was actually more than a little surprised that he woke up. At least his beautiful blue eyes hadn't changed. His face, however, bore more scars and lines, lines caused by anxiety and his bull-headed drive. Of course, once he was awake, all that concerned him was that he'd been burned and he needed to figure out who did it and why. I would be second again in his life. God help me, as much as I hated that, I couldn't abandon him and let him work this out on his own._

Michael hung his head. He remembered that day so well, and how he left her behind to start the wild chase that took years off their lives and must have caused her many a sleepless night. The entry reminded him again of how much she sacrificed for him. He didn't deserve her. When she recovered from her coma, he vowed that things were going to change. In the meantime, he jumped ahead a year and thumbed through the 2009 diary.

_I don't know how much more of this I can take. When I'm here alone, it seems so clear what he is doing to me. I know he loves me, but he doesn't know how to show me. It seems that he loves the search for who burned him more than he loves me. But I bring this on myself. I'm a fool for him, and I continue to help him in his quest. Tonight, though, I've had my fill. I'm going out with friends, and to hell with Michael._

He blinked. He hadn't expected that. Unable to read further, he skipped ahead a couple of pages. He remembered this time, when Fiona seemed distant. Then she introduced him to Campbell.

_Ah, Campbell! What can I say about him? He is so everything that Michael is not! It's refreshing, and heady to have a man who dotes on me. He cares about everything going on in my life, and I think it grieves him that I still work with Michael. He knows how Michael treated me, and I think he feels like it's his own personal mission to erase all the neglect and make my future bright. I love him for that, while I try to drown the feelings I have for Michael. Whenever we're together, I mention Campbell or talk about some sweet thing he does. I see it in Michael's eyes that he doesn't like it, but I can't stop myself. I keep goading him. I hope he's jealous, and I hope that eventually he'll let it out and prove how he really feels about me. _

Michael found a page that was rippled, as if someone, Fiona, had cried over it before filling it with words.

_ I keep trying, and it never happens. Campbell and I have been together for a few weeks now, but as much as I love his sweetness, it's not enough. He's not Michael, and that's the problem. As much as I've tried to break away, I just can't do it. Michael is like my life blood, stuck in my veins, flowing through every cell in my body. It's not fair to do this to Campbell. He's a wonderful guy, but he should be some other woman's wonderful guy. I need to figure out a good way to let him down gently, because I know he adores me._

Michael closed the diary. He couldn't bring himself to read any more that night. He was exhausted, physically and emotionally. He put it away and retreated to the empty bed, and he lay on her side, her pillow beneath his head, and he stroked it as if it were her hair. "Fi," he could only say. Reading the impact of his actions on her heaped more guilt on himself. It was painful. He couldn't even imagine how Fiona felt while it was all happening. Sometimes he caught Sam or his mother looking at him strangely, and he was too busy, too encumbered, to ask why. They saw what he couldn't, that Fiona suffered because of him.

Michael buried his face in her pillow, inhaled her scent, and prayed that she would wake up tomorrow. He wasn't sure he could take another night of reading how badly he tortured her all these years.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

"Three days," Michael sighed and pinched his temples with his thumb and index finger, closed his eyes, and let the soft morning breeze sweep at his face. The winds off the ocean were kind and a little cool, allowing Sam to drive with the windows open. "It's been three days and she hasn't awakened yet."

"These things take time sometimes. The doctor told you that, remember?"

"Yeah." Michael fell silent for nearly the entire trip. As Sam pulled into the lot, he remarked in a voice so soft, Sam almost didn't hear him. "Compared to Fi, I'm pretty weak."

"What?" Sam parked in a space, turned off the car, and stared at him. "Why do you say that?"

Michael rested his head against the seat back and replied, "I've been reading her diaries, Sam." He opened his eyes and looked at his friend's bewildered face. "It's been a real enlightening experience, let me tell you. I didn't realize exactly what I was putting her through all these years. I was being a... a selfish fool. She deserved better than what I gave her."

"I thought you two have already been over that. She's forgiven you."

"I know. But I was reminded again, and I learned that what I was asking forgiveness for wasn't quite everything I'd done." A disgusted expression marred his features. "Sam, she forgave me all that... it's unbelievable!"

"It just goes to show how much she loves you. And now that you know, do something about it. Don't keep going down the same path."

"I have no intention of making the same mistakes. And Sam, if you see me doing it, I don't know, knock me upside the head or something. Just telling me may not be enough."

The corner of Sam's mouth tipped up. "I'll keep that in mind. You don't know how many times I wanted to say something, but I just knew you'd never listen. You didn't have the perspective you have now." They got out of the car and walked toward the hospital entrance. "I mean, look at that time you wanted to get money from Carla to pay for Jack's medical bills, because you promised his dad you'd get the money and then things fell apart."

Ducking his head, Michael said, "I'm sorry about beating you up, Sam. I should have just listened and stood down. You were the level head, and you were right."

"Well, that's another example where you need to listen to those around you. Sometimes we know what we're talking about." He smiled, patted Michael's back between the shoulder blades, and walked with him up to Fiona's room.

That day, Michael brought along a small bag. Inside, he carried a book she had been reading before the bombing, and her diary from last year. After what he'd already put himself through, he knew that the 2011 book would be the most brutal to read. He scanned a few snippets before Sam picked him up, just to get a preview. It was enough to make him think twice about opening it again, and once he was seated beside Fiona's bed, he chose the novel first and opened it where she stuck the bookmark. It was the middle of a chapter, which he thought was odd. Then, with a private smile, he remembered why she ended so abruptly. He leaned forward, took her hand in his and massaged it gently. She'd been talking about how riveting this book was, but yet she dropped it to spend quality time with him.

"Fi, I'm going to back up a chapter and read this for you. Maybe you'll hear it, maybe you won't. I just..." His voice caught in his throat. "I just want to do this... After all you've done for me, it's the least I can do."

Sam's phone rang. He got out of his seat and said, "I'll be right back. Start without me." He winked and was gone from the room.

As promised, Michael went back to the previous chapter and began to read. It was a sweet romance novel, not his type of thing, but he persevered for her. He made it through two chapters, but Sam still hadn't returned. He read two more, then another. Concerned, he stopped reading.

"Fi, I'm going to go see if I can find Sam, or at least give him a call. I'll be back soon." He leaned over the rail and kissed her forehead. Her eyelashes fluttered slightly, but they'd done that yesterday too when he kissed her goodbye. Maybe it was progress. He added a caress of her cheek, hoping that she would react, but her face showed no acknowledgement of his action. "Okay, I'll be right back."

Michael stepped out into the hall and looked one way, then the other. He didn't see Sam anywhere. He went into the waiting area on the floor and it was empty. On the way back to Fiona's room, he stopped one of the nurses.

"Hey, did you see my friend leave? He's a guy my height, graying hair, normal build... he wears the Hawaiian shirts..."

"Oh yeah." The nurse grinned. "I saw him a little while ago on the phone, and he was heading for the elevators. He looked distressed about something."

"Thanks." The nurse went on her way, and Michael pulled out his phone and dialed. It went to voice mail. "Sam, when you get this, please give me a call. Tell me what happened, why you had to take off so fast without letting me know. I'm worried." It suddenly hit him that the message was unlike anything he'd ever left for Sam before. Becoming more aware of how he treated Fi left him open to explore how he'd treated his family and his best friend, and to change the way he handled things going forward.

Until he heard from Sam, Michael would sit with Fiona and wait, but he couldn't bring himself to read the novel. Fiona would have to do that herself when she was able. When, not if, he told himself. He dropped the book into the bag, pulled out her diary, and opened it to a random page.

_There's a new kind of evil in Michael's life. I thought Larry was bad, and when I blew him up, I felt a great sense of relief. It was over, and maybe Michael could learn to relax with all the old monkeys off his back. But we learned that Anson wasn't the poor man in distress as we first thought. He was the one pulling all the strings. He burned Michael in an attempt to recruit him and use him to his own despicable ends. He's proving to be more tenacious than any of the others: Carla, Management, Strickler, Vaughn. They were all child's play compared to Anson. And it's not just Michael who is under his control now._

_ He used my assassination of Larry to frame me for the bombing of the building in which the British Consulate was housed, killing two innocent guards. Now if Michael doesn't do what Anson wants him to, he's threatened to go to the police with the evidence they need to try and convict me of their deaths. Somehow, I don't think it will matter one way or the other. Anson will orchestrate things so that I am led to my execution, and he will be free to manipulate Michael. It kills me to think that there is nothing any of us can do. My only course of action is to turn myself in and set the record straight before Anson releases his false information. I may go to jail for the rest of my life, but at least Anson will have no leverage against Michael and he can then turn on Anson and destroy him._

_ I can't believe that Sam actually agreed with me! From the first day, we were at each other's throats. Working with Michael, we were forced into a truce of sorts. As time went by, our frozen stalemate melted. We both thawed even more when he asked me for advice on women. I asked him for advice on Michael, since he knew him long before I did. Little by little, we learned to respect each other and bond over our common love for Michael, to the point where I almost feel like Sam is a brother. _

He thought he heard Fiona make a sound, so Michael lifted his head and studied her. She didn't move a muscle, to his disappointment. He tried Sam's number again, got his voice mail, and left another message. Then he flipped to the last pages of the diary and read them.

_I tried to convince Michael that my plan was the best course of action, but he wouldn't listen. I have never been so angry at him as I am now! It didn't help that he chained me to the grating on the stairs with a handcuff, and he took off to leave me screaming his name after him. I put every ounce of my ire into trying to pull free, but I only rubbed my wrist raw. Then Sam showed up, and when I saw the pained look on his face, I felt like I was seeing an angel come to save me. I quickly explained what __happened as he freed me from the stairs, and he surprised me again by helping to formulate a plan._

_ We had little time to lose. I quickly penned a note to Michael, and when Sam promised to give it to him, I had no doubt he would do it. Then I had to do something that I'd wanted to do when Sam and I were enemies. As he fastened the handcuff to his wrist, and attached the other to the stairs, he practically begged me to hit him with something that would leave a mark. I don't know what I used, because if I thought about it, I wouldn't have been able to do it. It made me sick to my stomach, but somehow I managed to clock him good enough to knock him out for a short while. I'm writing this down, so that some day, Michael, if you read this, you'll know what we did for you. If there had been any other way, I wouldn't have hesitated. But this was it. We needed to do something to squash Anson's plan. I'm sorry, my love. I hope that my letter was a better explanation. I have to go now. I will always love you._

The last lines were blurred. Michael sniffled, wiped furiously at his eyes with the back of his hand, and reached for some tissues in a small box on the tray table. It was then that he noticed Fiona's arm moved. He laid his on the rail, and her hand brushed it.

"Fi! Come on, Fi, open your eyes. Open your eyes and look at me." His words came out between the tears. The diary lay forgotten on the couch behind him, and he reached for her flailing hand to hold it in his strong hands. He placed kisses on her fingers. They curled at his touch, which only made him tear up more.

Then Fiona's eyes opened, and she slowly smiled at him. "Michael." Her voice was hoarse after so many days of not being used.

"Fi. Thank God you're awake. I've been waiting for three days to see you look at me again." He leaned forward and placed a feather light kiss on her lips. "I'm sorry, my love, for everything I've done to hurt you."

Fiona looked at him, incomprehension in her eyes. "I've already forgiven you."

"But there was so much more. I know that now." He sniffled as he stroked her hair.

"Don't worry about it, Michael." Her eyes slid closed again.

"Fi?"

"It's okay. Just need to rest."

"Oh." He looked around, not sure what to do. He saw a shadow in the hall, and then Sam entered the room. "Sam! Where have you been? I've been trying to call you!"

"Sorry, Mike, I just got your voice mails. Perry fell and wrecked his knee. Elsa was all freaked about it, so I went back to the hotel to take care of things." He paused as he glanced at Fiona and saw her eyes open. A slow, wide grin spread across his face. "Hey Fi, you don't know how glad we are to see you awake!"

"How's Perry," she asked.

"Oh, he'll be fine. He's in ortho right now. We could have taken him to a different hospital, but Elsa insisted he go to trauma care. Sheesh!" He shook his head. "Even he was protesting all the way!"

"That's good to hear, that he'll be okay," Michael said. He turned his attention back to Fiona. "Do you need anything?"

She shook her head and nestled her cheek into his hand. "Nothing, except for you by my side. Forever."

He grinned. "You've already got that! You just need to get better and come home!" He kissed her lips, and he felt that old familiar flame shoot through him as she responded. When he broke away, his voice was gruff. "Fi, be careful with that. You're playing with fire!" He glanced back to where Sam had been standing, but some time during that kiss he made himself scarce. _ Just one of many reasons why you're my best friend, Sam. You've got great timing!_

Michael wanted to stay beyond normal visiting hours and insisted on taking a cab home. Sam reluctantly left when general visiting hours were over and went back to the hotel with Elsa. But before he did so, he resolved that he wouldn't let his friend rely on some two-bit hack to get him home. He took out his keys and slapped them into Michael's palm.

"What's this?"

"The keys to my new Caddy. Take it home with you tonight, and Elsa and I will swing by the loft tomorrow and pick it up." He paused, and with a wink added, "Just don't blow it up or get into an accident or anything. Elsa will skin me alive."

Michael chuckled and his hand closed around the keys. "Thanks, Sam. I'll treat it like it was my own."

Sam frowned. "That's what I was afraid of." At the sight of Michael's expression falling into a frown, he said, "Hey, just kidding! I know you'll take care of it. See you tomorrow. Night, Fi." He stepped to the other side of the bed, leaned over, and gave her a kiss on the cheek.

"Thank you, Sam, for helping Michael through this."

Sam nodded. "No problem." He turned and left the room. "Later, Mikey!"

When he arrived home, Michael was too excited to sleep. All he could think about was the fact that Fiona was awake. Tomorrow they would run tests to see how her injury was healing, and maybe she could be moved to a regular room. Or even come home.

He put the old diary in the trunk and pulled out the one under Fi's pillow. He opened it to the first blank page and took it to the bar. On the way, he took a pen from a drawer nearby and sat on the stool, staring at the page for a few moments. It was her diary. He didn't have one of his own, because in his line of work, keeping a journal was about as foolish as tweeting your mission for everyone to see.

The cap fit over the rounded end of the pen. Michael tapped it against his teeth as he sat in thought. Then he began to write.

_My dear, adoring wife, Fiona, _

_ I've loved you for a long time now, but I realize how inadequately I expressed my feelings. Please don't try to brush it off or excuse it, because there is no justification for what I've done. Yes, we've discussed this before, and you've forgiven me. But I feel that there is no amount of forgiveness that can wipe away the depth of my transgressions against you. I need to feel the pain you felt as an atonement for my sins. When you're feeling better we can talk about this. _

_ I want you to spill out your heart to me. Lock away these books, because these thoughts and feelings should be given to me to hold, and I will find a way to soothe your frustrations and pain. You have exposed your heart to me in your diaries. I hope you can forgive me for invading your privacy that way, but now that I have, I don't ever want anything to be secret between us again. Give me your heart, the good and the bad, and I promise I will do the same. We'll cry together, laugh together, and heal together. _

_ I pledge this with all my love. _

_ Michael_

"Fi, if you get tired, let me know."

"Michael," Fiona groaned. His arm circled her waist and he held onto her hand with his free one as he led her up the stairs to the loft a couple days later. "You don't have to baby me!"

"Okay, but I think when we're up there, you should lay down for awhile and rest." His eyes locked on hers.

She saw the fear in his and smiled. "Only if you lay with me."

"I've got to..." He was about to say he had to go to the CIA offices for a meeting with Bailey, but he stopped himself. "Okay, Fi. Just for a little while." Baby steps. He would stay with her until she fell asleep, go to the meeting, and return before she woke up.

The two made it upstairs with no trouble, and he stayed by her side to let her down on the bed. His phone rang, but he ignored it until she looked up at him. "You better get that. It might be important."

"Not nearly as important as you." He smiled.

Fiona tilted her head. "Just get it, please?"

He closed his eyes and dropped his head in defeat. "Fine." He snapped into it, "Who is it?" He listened and winced as Bailey gave him an earful. "Yeah, I'll be right in. I'm just getting Fiona settled at home." He let out a deep sigh as he closed the connection and held her with one arm. "I'm sorry, Fi. Bailey's hot to get me into the office. I've gotta go, but I'll be back real soon. I promise!"

"Don't worry. I'll be waiting." She kissed his lips and sent him on his way.

The loft door squealed and thudded behind him, followed by the rub of metal on metal as the key turned the tumblers and locked the door. She flung her arms wide and fell back onto the bed, her body crosswise on the mattress. She rolled to her side and felt the lump of her journal under the pillow. A knowing smile crossed her face. She heard Michael admit that he looked at her diaries, and she wondered what he thought of whatever he'd read. She opened to the last page and received her answer in his half page confession and plea.

"Oh, Michael!" She read it three times, then closed the book, hugged it to her chest, and whispered to the silence. "I promise, Michael. You and I will never need to pour our hearts out on paper again." A warm tear slid down her cheek. "There will be no need for secrets, not in our home."

She looked forward to when he came home, so she could tell him in person.


End file.
